It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,20
that’s why you wanted to be moved into all of those classes.”
My face burns, but I pretend like I don’t know what she means. “What classes?”
“The ones that are too easy for you. The Gen Ed ones.”
“There’s nothing wrong with regular English.”
“No, there isn’t. But not for an English buff like you. I can’t believe I didn’t even think to ask. I’m so stupid.” She walks around my room in wide circles that become tighter as she walks.
“No one would consider you stupid, Mom.”
She stops to launch another doozy. “Perfect. Genius. Way to go, Jenna.”
“Why are you mad now?”
“You want us to talk to you about things? It goes both ways.” Her hands are on her hips now.
“What are you talking about?”
“When you found out about the lawsuit, did you come talk with us about it? No.” Mom paces again, only now her hands can’t decide where to be. On her mouth. On her hip. On her head. In the air, waving around. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this mad. “You just went ahead and got angry and did stupid, stupid things. And we let you.”
“Let me? I don’t get a say in my education?”
“Well, obviously you do, since you’ve dropped all of your AP classes.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Is it too late to transfer classes?”
“Yes. It is. And I’m not doing it. I need a break from everything. Studying included.” It’s true. After I found out about the settlement, I felt exhausted. I’d been trying at everything, so hard, for so long. I just needed to…not try for a while.
“Well, you got it. Hope you like your break.” With that, she walks out of my room without even asking if I want my light on or off.
Good thing I’ve got this state-of-the-art system. The entire house is wireless, and I can control every single thing. Want the door open? Press a button. Television on? Same. Awesome, except for the price I had to pay for this tiny bit of magic. The door shuts, and I swipe my way back to Uncle Steve’s email. I bring up the documents, e-sign my name, and hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Mom and Dad are never going to get over their need to control me.
But as soon as the email is sent, I feel like a total jerk. I realize in my own twisted story, I am the evil thing that gets her comeuppance. I reek of betrayal and misery and all bad things. Mom’s right. I should have gone to them when I found out about the settlement. Instead I got angry and acted out. I suck. It’s not Mom’s fault I need these tests. The same tests I get every year. It’s that idiot Jerkoby’s fault. Dude was probably overdosing on energy drinks, doppios from Starbucks—whatever it took to get him going after his wild night at the casino or something. No wonder he got the shakes.
The point is, I get these tests every year. Then we meet with the doctors and we see what’s what. Have I grown? Is my spine torqued more than usual? Have my hips dislocated? Are my nerves being impinged? And what can we do about my spasticity? That’s the biggie. But year after year, there’s no good option for me. Which is why I’m sick of going through it all. I’m sick of getting my hopes up. I’m sick of being offered the same old solutions. Drugs that make me sick. More surgery.
A massive weight is on my chest, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I chew my knuckle—a habit Mom hates, which weirdly feels like me getting back at her a little bit. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. Tears run freely, and I let them.
I just can’t do this right now. I can’t. I need relief.
Then I pick up my phone and pull up my contacts. I stare at Julian’s number and let myself believe for a second that I could text him. That I could send him a nice little message, and he’d be glad to hear from me. And just imagining it is enough to lift my spirits.
I pretend that I am Jennifer, the better version of me. And as Jennifer, I would text Julian, for sure. To help him, maybe. Because Jennifer is happy to help people.
Julian Van Beck could definitely use some helping. And who better to help him than his former best friend, me?